


coming down

by RiteOnTime



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Lacrosse, depression tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiteOnTime/pseuds/RiteOnTime
Summary: the college lacrosse au that no one but me wanted





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a long, long time since i've written fic. i've always toyed with the idea of writing something lacrosse related, since i played when i was in college and to me it just fit so well with this ship. good luck, be safe, use protection, and i hope you enjoy this fic that definitely got away from me.

Sophomore Year

 

She remembers what it was like setting foot on campus last year, how excited she was, how naïve and unprepared.  It was her first time away from home for an extended period of time, her first time having what she dubbed “real freedom.”  Sure, she had gone a little crazy with it sometimes, but at that point she had justified it as being young, as wanting to experience life, as wanting to have the classic college experience.

 

And she did.  Her freshman year was hard; going to school and being on a D1 lacrosse team was like having two full time jobs, and the only job she’d had up until that point was scooping ice cream the summer before.  She made it work, even though sometimes she was so exhausted that she thought she would fall asleep at practice, and there were times when she would have to read the same page in her book multiple times to actually understand the words.  Freshman year felt straight out of a movie.  She got to go to parties, and have those classic college hookups, and be young and carefree and blissfully happy.  She got to play the sport she loved more than anything in the world with a team of girls that loved it just as much.  She met some of the best friends, and now roommates, that she’d ever had, and she’d never say that her life was perfect, but it was good.

 

It was a year later, and she was sitting in the same chair outside the same office waiting to have the same talk with her counselor that she’d had all those months ago.  Except this year, life wasn’t good.  It kind of sucked, actually.  Her sister wasn’t talking to her, and her leg was in a brace, and she had to use crutches to get around.  Her head still hurt sometimes, but at least it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as right after the accident.  She was grateful to be alive, sure, and she was going to recover and be able to play lacrosse again, maybe before the spring season, even.  But the possibility that that wouldn’t happen haunted her, because her doctors had assured her that there was only a small chance that she wouldn’t be able to play again, and even though they were positive, all she could focus on was the negative.

 

So much of her life had been shaped by this sport, and Sara was afraid of having to figure out who she was without it.  She was so afraid that she had drawn into herself; the person she was a year ago was something distant, like it was another lifetime, another girl.  Her dad had helped her move into her apartment a few weeks ago, and even though she loved Amaya and Zari, all she wanted was to be alone.

 

Sara and Quentin talked once a week, and they always avoided talking about Laurel.  It didn’t matter how much she wanted to know what was going on in her sister’s life because Laurel had been giving her radio silence for months now.  She couldn’t blame her, not after what happened, and Sara knew that their dad had no idea what to do.  And it was easier, to just not talk about Laurel, to avoid the subject altogether.  She didn’t want to make things harder on Quentin than they already were – she figured she’d put him through enough over the summer as it was.

 

She was sitting on a bench, leaning against the wall of a hallway full of offices, although she had only ever been in this one.  The walls were lined with cheesy posters with mountains, or marathon runners, or some other bullshit like that, all telling her “You can do it!” and to “Rise above the challenge in front of you!”  A year ago she had snorted a laugh in amusement, but now she couldn’t stop herself from being bitter.  She tamped down the urge to yell that it was all crap, even though she’d be yelling at a mostly empty hallway, aside from the other girl there.

 

The other girl was a transfer from some school in Ohio that Sara had never heard of.  The girl, Ava, had played lacrosse for a D3 school there, and apparently had done something to impress Coach Stein, because she had started the pre-season with the team two weeks ago.  They hadn’t interacted much, especially given that Sara couldn’t practice on the field.  But they passed each other from time to time when they had gym practices, and spotted each other once on the bench press, because at least Sara could still do that.  Ava seemed to keep to herself though, so Sara didn’t think of her too often outside of lacrosse.  At the moment, she had her eyes cast down at the book in her hands, a pair of headphones on.  Her “don’t fuck with me vibe” was completed by the scowl she almost always wore on her face, and Sara definitely understood wanting to be left alone.

 

Sara had an appointment with her academic counselor, but she didn’t exactly want to be there.  She didn’t understand why it was mandatory that she see Rip when she’d already locked down her schedule at the end of her freshman year.  When she’d complained to Stein, he had given her what the team called his “dad face”, so she was here instead of in bed napping like she wanted to.  The door to Rip’s office finally opened, and Emma, a junior on the team, stepped out with one strap of her backpack pulled onto her shoulder.  She smiled at Sara, and Sara swore that she could physically feel the pity coming from the other girl, but she smiled back to be polite.  Some people didn’t know how to treat those with injuries like Sara’s, and she didn’t want to hold it against Emma.  Their team was a family after all.

 

She stood up – her appointment was next and she’d rather not wait for Rip to get up and call her in.  Emma came up to her, put a hand on her arm and squeezed lightly.  Sara felt like that was something you do when you’re trying to comfort a person at a funeral, not someone who tore their ACL.

 

“Good luck,” Emma said, her smile brightening.  At least this one didn’t seem like it had hidden pity in it.

 

Sara replied with a soft “thanks” and a huff of a laugh.  What were you really supposed to say thank you for in that situation anyways?  She walked into Rip’s office, where the man himself was sitting behind his desk, typing like his life depended on it.  He was a lanky man with a British accent and a beard that never quite looked right on his face.  Zari always argued that it was the mustache, while Sara figured it was the whole damn thing that needed to go.

 

Rip was wearing a pair of circular glasses that everyone knew he didn’t actually need and just wore for the “aesthetic,” but no one ever called him out on it.  It was a distraction from the beard at least.

 

“Hey Sara, just give me one second and then we’ll bring up your schedule.”

 

“Cool beans,” she said as she sat down and set her bag on the ground against her chair.  Rip’s office was much of the same from the hallway; cheesy motivational posters, a couple filing cabinets.  He also had team photos up on the wall to Sara’s left, one for each year he had been the team’s academic counselor.  The wall opposite held his many academic accolades, along with his degrees.  Sara figured that after school you’d want to take a break, but here Rip was, working for a university even though he’d spent almost his entire life in class.  He reminded her of Laurel, who was currently at law school after just finishing her undergrad, but she quickly pushed that thought away.

 

“Alright, let’s get started,” he said, turning his computer monitor so that Sara could see it.  She leaned forward for a better view, even though she already knew what she was taking.  “So it looks like you’re taking more general education classes this semester.”  He gave her a pointed look, and Sara knew what he was going to ask.

 

“Have you thought more about what major you want to pursue?”  She hadn’t, and it was agonizing.  How could people jump straight from high school to college and know what they wanted to study?  Or even what they wanted to do afterwards?

 

Rip had asked her this same question a year ago, but that was when she was a freshman and had time to explore all her options.  Now, as a sophomore, she had far less time to get her shit together if she wanted to graduate on time.  And she definitely didn’t want to be in school if she couldn’t play lacrosse.

 

She shook her head.  “I didn’t really think about it over the summer,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes.  Her time was taken up with recovery for the most part, and she had pushed pretty much everything else to the side.

 

He turned the monitor towards himself a bit and pulled up another document, before adjusting the screen again so that Sara could see.  On the screen were her grades from her previous two semesters.  They weren’t the best, but still pretty good by her standards, and she hadn’t been anywhere close to being kicked off the team, which was what had kept her on track last year.

 

“Well it looks like you did well with your history classes, and you must enjoy it seeing as you took three.  Is that something you’d be interested in pursuing as a degree?”

 

It wasn’t.  As much as Sara loved history, she didn’t want to do something that was that easy for her.  It came naturally; writing essays and remembering dates and the significance of different events throughout time.  But it was boring, and Sara wasn’t exactly interested in sitting on her hands when she could go out and do something to break a sweat.

 

“I think I’ll pass on that,” she said, not wanting to discuss this with Rip.  He wanted to push further, she could tell, but he held back, for which Sara was grateful.  She wasn’t really in the mood for talking more than she felt was necessary.

 

“I will say that it’s not the end of the world if you don’t choose a major right now, but please think on it.  You still have time to figure that out, but you really should do so before the end of your sophomore year.”  She nodded, even though she was planning on completely forgetting this meeting as soon as she could go home and climb in bed.

 

“You betcha, captain,” she said, just in case nodding wasn’t enough.

 

Rip took his glasses off and set them down on his desk.  He folded his hands on top of his calendar that was chock full of appointments for the upcoming month.  The semester started next week after all.  He was going to try to talk about emotions and feelings, Sara could feel it.  She knew that she was a different person from last year.  Who wouldn’t be after what had happened?  But she really didn’t need some touchy-feely counselor trying to “connect” with her.

 

She pulled her phone from her back pocket and pretended to check the time, hoping that the action would prompt Rip to end their meeting.

 

“Look, Sara, I know you’re having a hard time with the recovery,” he started, but paused when Sara opened her mouth to interject.  She would have, but didn’t know what to say.  “But I hope that you know, if you’re struggling, and you ever need someone to talk to-“

 

“That’s really-“

 

“We have on-campus mental health professionals who are here to help,” he finished, and thank god he wasn’t insinuating that she could talk to him.  She didn’t want to share the negativity she carried around with anyone that she interacted with on a regular basis.  No one needed that burden.

 

“Oh,” she said, surprised.

 

“Just don’t talk to me.  I’m the biggest emotional wreck you’ll ever meet.”  Rip smiled, and Sara couldn’t tell if there was some truth to that statement or not.  Either way, it seemed like their meeting was over, and Sara was more relieved to be able to leave than she was annoyed that she’d walked from her apartment to campus for such a short meeting.

 

Rip dismissed her, wishing her luck with the new semester.  She gave him a small smile before she exited his office.  As soon as she was out in the hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief.  _That wasn’t that bad_ , she thought to herself while she adjusted her backpack on her shoulders for the walk back to her apartment.  Once she was out in the hallway, Ava stood up and made her way to the door of the office.  She took her headphones off, pulling them around her neck instead, and fumbled with her phone to turn off the music that Sara could hear faintly.

 

She started walking, or really crutching, the opposite way that Ava was, giving her a small smile and a soft “hey” when they passed each other.  Ava didn’t say anything.  She didn’t even look at her.  As Sara continued walking, she glanced back with a frown as Ava went into Rip’s office. _Some teammate_ , she thought as she headed towards the elevator to exit the building.

 

* * *

 

 

When she got home, she went through the motions of settling in for the night, even though it was only mid-afternoon.  Shoes on the rack by the door, backpack on the floor of the coat closet, crutches leaning against the wall, water bottle filled up using the purifier that Amaya had attached to the kitchen sink’s nozzle because she didn’t trust regular tap water.  Sara, Amaya, and Zari hadn’t been in the apartment long, but it already felt lived in, and it made Sara feel calm.  She was glad that she had a place to call her own, and she wouldn’t have traded her dorm experience for anything, but it was nice to not have to share a room with another person.  At least not one she was actively dating.

 

She considered grabbing something to eat, but she reasoned that it would ruin her dinner.  Whether or not she actually ate later was up in the air though; her appetite had been pretty hit or miss since the accident, which was something she actively tried to hide from others.  Except that was hard to do with Amaya and Zari, and even though she complained about it outwardly, she was extremely grateful for the times that they would sit her down at the kitchen table and make her eat with them.

 

Despite lamenting the fact that she wasn’t in bed for the last hour when she was on campus, she chose to lay down on the couch in the living room and turn on the ridiculously expensive TV that Zari had brought.  Sara didn’t really understand how it worked.  Zari had told her it was a “Smart TV” and tried to explain how it worked a couple times before she gave up and showed Sara how to navigate to Netflix, which was really all she needed anyways.  She put on a baking show where everyone was nice and helpful and that Amaya always turned on for background noise when she was cooking or studying.

 

Sara wasn’t exactly invested, but she liked seeing what everyone came up with for each challenge they had, and she liked that the bakers tried to help each other when they could.  She hated watching American cooking shows because everyone was so competitive, and she already dealt with that enough playing lacrosse.  The British accents were soothing for her, and before long she had fallen asleep, lulled by the warmth of the blanket on her legs and the commentary from the TV.

 

Hours later, she was awoken abruptly by the sound of the front door slamming shut and someone calling her name.  Sara groaned – she didn’t want to get up, not when she felt so cozy and warm and had maybe one-tenth of the energy that the person yelling her name did.  Zari and Amaya were home from who-knows-what, and Sara checked her phone to see that she’d been asleep for several hours.  The TV screen was asking her if she was still watching her show and she groaned; she’d missed what happened in the third round of the episode she’d been on when she fell asleep.

 

It was Zari yelling her name throughout the apartment, and Sara could hear Amaya admonishing her in a much quieter voice.  Sara kept her eyes closed and pretended to be asleep, hoping that she would be left alone, but she had no such luck.  Zari unceremoniously sat right on top of her, making it hard for Sara to breathe, but she didn’t want to get up.

 

“Sara, get up, wake up, move that booty,” Zari sing-songed to her, wiggling her butt on Sara’s back.

 

“Amaya, help me,” Sara pleaded, opening her eyes instead of continuing to pretend she was asleep.

 

“Zari, come on,” Amaya said, shaking her head and laughing.

 

“I can’t breathe,” Sara rasped dramatically, hoping that her friend would very literally get off her back.

 

“Fine,” Zari said, “but sit up, you’re hogging the couch.”  Sara did as asked, but not without a groan of protest that made her sound like she was in her mid-forties, not nineteen.  She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as Zari got situated while Amaya sat down in the armchair to the side.

 

“Did you see the group chat?” Zari asked her, knowing that Sara probably hadn’t.  She’d never been great at checking her phone, but Sara’s lingering concussion meant she tried to stay off it as much as possible.

 

“No, why?”

 

“Mixer this weekend,” Amaya said.  Sara groaned.  She still liked parties well enough, but parties meant socializing, and she definitely didn’t like the sound of that.

 

“With the boys team,” Zari supplied before Sara could ask.

 

It could have been worse.  Sara at least knew and was friends with some of the guys on the men’s team, and she figured she could spend time with Ray, who always made her feel like a better human being.  Still though, Sara was on crutches, and her knee was in a brace, and there was no way she was going to feel hot when she was lumbering around everywhere.  Sara adamantly believed in the adage “look good, feel good,” and knew that there was no way she could feel good when she had the very visible reminder of her accident.

 

“Is it mandatory?” she asked, hoping beyond hope that there was some way out.

 

Part of the deal with playing lacrosse in a top tier program was going to social events like this.  It wasn’t necessarily that the coaches required it, but the captains did, and to be fair it was probably a good thing to be on good terms with the other university teams.  The men’s lacrosse team, and both the soccer teams usually tried to come out and support them when they could, and it was nice to have a crowd, especially for Sara.  Lacrosse wasn’t exactly a big deal back home, and she relished having someone other than her dad and Laurel cheering for her.

 

“Yep,” Zari said, popping the “p” sound at the end.  Sara groaned again, and she thought that maybe she should start communicating with grunts alone.  They were becoming quite common, for her anyway.

 

“Fine,” she said, drawing out the word to be dramatic.

 

“That’s the spirit!” Zari exclaimed, clapping her on the back a bit harder than necessary.  Sara glared at her, but she didn’t do anything to retaliate.  Amaya looked at the two of them like she was a proud mother that had just resolved a conflict.

 

“I’m going to start dinner,” Amaya said, standing from her chair.

 

“Thanks, mom!” Zari called to her as she walked to the kitchen.

 

“Of course, honey!” Amaya replied back, and Sara couldn’t help but smile.  She knew, deep down, that she was incredibly lucky to have two friends who weren’t going to let her fall into herself because of what had happened over the summer.  They were encouraging and positive and let her have her bad habits every so often.  Some part of her figured that if she had friends like them, then she could make it through this, but that thought was bringing up emotions she didn’t want to deal with, even if they were good ones.

 

Zari reached across her to grab the remote for the TV.  She changed the input so that she could play one of her gaming systems, grabbing the correct controller from one of the drawers in the coffee table.  Sara grabbed a pillow and put it in Zari’s lap, resting her head there.  It was normal for them.  All three of them could be very touchy with each other, which was something Sara appreciated considering she didn’t get a lot of that growing up.

 

Sara watched Zari play some video game that she didn’t understand, although she did like the appeal of being an assassin and a pirate all wrapped in one.  She could hear Amaya in the kitchen, the fan turned on above the stove, something sizzling in a pan.  She wasn’t happy, but she definitely felt content and safe with two of the people who knew the truth of what had happened that summer and hadn’t judged her for any of it.

 

* * *

 

 

The next few days passed in the same way the past weeks had – get up early, go to practice, maybe nap, go to practice again, eat dinner, repeat.  The team didn’t do the same thing every day, but most days they were out on the field to scrimmage or run drills or do conditioning.  Sara was so antsy to be able to run again that she felt a pang of jealousy when Coach Stein called for them to pick up their sticks and put in their mouth guards in preparation of a mile run.

 

At least he wasn’t making her sit on the bench twiddling her thumbs while everything happened around her.  When she had come back after summer, they had had a long conversation about her accident and what it meant for her career.  He assured her that he still wanted her on the team, that she was important, to all of them, and that he expected her to still go to practice and attend team functions.

 

“A torn ACL doesn’t excuse you from being a part of this team,” he’d said.  And Sara wasn’t about to complain.  One of her biggest fears after her injury was that she would come back and be cut from the team, and she was beyond glad that that wasn’t something she had to worry about.  Stein had also assured her that he would come up with a way for her to be involved in practice, and hopefully keep her engaged while she couldn’t play.

 

Part of that was warming up the goalies whenever they practiced on the field.  It was Sara and one of the assistant coaches that worked together to create a dynamic warm-up for the two goalies on their team, and even though her movements were limited, Sara still had a killer shot.  She was a middie, which meant she played both offense and defense, and she trained hard when she first joined the team in order to better her shot.  It wasn’t as easy to score on college goalies as it had been in high school.

 

The team’s two goal keepers were Charlie, a senior who was somewhat middle of the road for their league; not the worst, but not the best either.  She was quick with her hands, but sometimes got tripped up with her feet, and she had a problem with her footwork and getting where she needed to be inside the crease.

 

The other was Ava, who was miles ahead of Charlie with pretty much everything.  Where Charlie was fast with her hands, Ava was faster.  She knew exactly where she needed to be in the crease at all times, too.  She was louder, she was more concise, and she knew how to command her defense incredibly well.  Ava was dedicated like Sara had never seen, and she was impressed despite being slightly miffed that she’d been ignored that day outside Rip’s office.  Anytime Sara got a shot in on the goal keep, she mentally fist bumped herself, because Ava was one of the best goalies Sara had ever seen, and she had no idea how she’d ever wound up at a D3 school with skills like that.  Plus, it was kinda hot watching her take her helmet off and seeing the exertion on her face after an intense drill.

 

Sara and Ava were forced to interact this week, as Stein had decided to dedicate Sara as Ava’s warm-up partner.  Ava was still reserved, and she still kept to herself, but every so often, when Sara would make a joke, she would laugh.  But that was only sometimes, and it didn’t change the fact that Ava gave her the cold shoulder pretty often.  Sara was caught between being annoyed and attracted to her, but figured it was better not to push things and leave Ava be.  She didn’t know what Ava could be going through or what had happened in her life, and Sara was proud of herself for thinking that way.  Freshman Sara would’ve just been pissed and unwilling to understand, opting for confrontation rather than communication.

 

It had been five days since her meeting with Rip, and that night was the mixer with the boys’ team.  Somehow the captains had appealed to Stein on the importance of being well-rested before a social event such as this, and practice for that Saturday had been cancelled.  Sara had even gotten the all-clear to stop using her crutches, if she truly felt she didn’t need them, from the team’s lead trainer the day before.  She had to keep the brace on, but that was nothing compared to having to deal with two metal sticks that got in the way of everything.

 

She didn’t want to admit it, but Sara was beginning to feel an inkling of excitement about the party.  They didn’t have practice the next morning, and it was the weekend before the semester started, and this was the first big thing she was going to since being back at school.  Sara still felt guilty, and she knew she needed to control herself so she didn’t accidentally fuck up her leg, but Amaya and Zari had convinced her that she deserved to have a bit of fun.  Plus she was excited to see what the new recruits were like at parties, and how they would mesh with the established lacrosse culture on campus.

 

Sara staunchly pushed Ava out of her mind in conjunction with the rookies.  She definitely wasn’t anticipating what party-Ava would look like, and definitely wasn’t curious about what she was like outside of practice.  And maybe Zari and Amaya had made… _comments_ , about how Sara looked at Ava a little too long when she was dressing down, and she pulled off her pinnie so that she was just wearing a sports bra.  But come on, they played a tough sport full of fit women who were insanely attractive, so could you really blame a girl for looking every so often?

 

“No, I see your point,” Zari had said, putting a fist full of gummy worms in her mouth.

 

“I suppose not,” Amaya had answered, making a disgusted face at Zari and her ability to eat trash food with zero repercussions.

 

“Exactly,” Sara had said, taking some of the candy from the bag in front of Zari.  “We’ve all checked each other out, even the girls who are straight.”

 

“How can you be straight when girls exist?” Zari had asked rhetorically around the candy in her mouth.  Sara nodded her head as if Zari had just won a debate, while Amaya looked away and laughed.

 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Amaya had said, shaking her head.

 

It was the day of the mixer, and Sarah had gotten to _sleep in_ for the first time in a long time, even though she took naps almost every single day.  Nonetheless she was feeling… okay.  Which for her, after the past few months, seemed like a good step forward.  That didn’t stop her from taking a nap during the day, but she justified it as getting ready to stay up way past her bedtime that she was usually very strict about because of practice.

 

She, Zari, and Amaya got ready together, crowding into the one full bathroom in the apartment and somehow making it work.  It was going to be a look good, feel good kind of night.  Sara had decided, and she was going to ignore how much she hated the fact that she had to wear a brace and just try to have a good time.  Amaya helped her with pulling her shorts over her brace, and tying her shoes, and in return Sara did Amaya’s makeup.  Sara wasn’t someone who wore a lot herself, but she loved helping other people with theirs.

 

They’d gotten ready early to go to a pre-game at one of the senior girl’s houses, and even though it was technically “early” for a party, it was still ten o’clock at night, and Sara hoped that her afternoon nap would help keep her awake.  When the three of them got to the house, most of the team was already there, and some of the girls were already going hard.  There was a beer pong table set up in the living room, with the couches pushed back against the walls to create more room.  A group was at the kitchen table playing a game of flip cup that wrapped up not long after Sara, Amaya, and Zari got through the front door.  The sounds of celebration from whoever had won was louder than the music for a short moment, before the heavy-bass beat took over again and reverberated through the walls.

 

The kitchen counter was littered with solo cups, liquor bottles, and mixers.  Amaya and Zari headed to the kitchen to get drinks, while Sara made her way to one of the couches to watch the ongoing beer pong match.  It was uncomfortable to have to stand on one leg for an extended period of time, and her roommates had promised that they would hang out with her whenever she needed to sit down.  Sara figured it was better to save her stamina for later on when they got to the real party.

 

She hobbled over to the one mostly empty couch.  Mostly empty, because Ava was sitting squished into one corner, even though no one was next to her and she could definitely be taking up more space.  Ava looks out of her element, and even though Sara finds her mostly annoying, she’d rather help make their new goalie feel welcome, rather than out of place.

 

“Hey,” Sara says as she sits next to Ava, who flinches just slightly when Sara sits down next to her.  Sara isn’t exactly broaching her personal space, but they aren’t that far apart either.  She does her best not to be invasive with how close she is, and scoots a little further away in the hopes of making Ava feel more comfortable.

 

This time, when Sara acknowledges her, Ava reciprocates.  “Hey,” she says, her voice exuding the same depth and command she has on the field, even if her body language is reading entirely different.  Sara notices the slight discomfort on her teammate’s face, and decides to wonder out loud instead of to herself.

 

“Have you been to a party before?” she asks Ava, speaking up so that she can be heard over the music.  Ava shakes her head, and Sara can’t help but feel sympathetic when she thinks of what’s to come when they get to the frat house where the mixer is being held.

 

“Do you wanna hang with me, Zari, and Amaya tonight?” she tries, guessing that Ava needs to be invited to spend time with people because otherwise she would feel like she’s intruding.  Sara guesses, because sometimes she feels that way, too.

 

“Okay,” Ava says, a small smile on her lips and the look of discomfort on her face abating somewhat.

 

At that point, Zari and Amaya find them, Amaya holding three cups in her hands and Zari four shots in hers.  Sara is once again very grateful for her friends and the fact that they, too, saw that Ava was uncomfortable and needed people to help her through what was sure to be a raucous night.

 

“Hey, Ava,” Zari says, handing shots to both her and Sara as she nestles herself on the couch in between the two.  Sara moves over more to allow Zari to sit on the couch properly, and Amaya laughs and shakes her head, as she often does with their friend.

 

Amaya sets her drinks down on the side table next to the couch and takes the plastic shot glass that Zari offers her before turning her attention to Ava, who looks uncertainly at the shot she has in her own hand.  “You totally don’t have to take it if you don’t want to,” she says.

 

“Definitely,” Zari adds.  “We just saw you and Sara talking and thought we’d get you one just in case.”

 

“We would’ve gotten you a drink, too, but we didn’t know what you’d like.”

 

“Or if you drink at all,” Zari finishes, and Ava looks relieved that she isn’t going to be pressured into drinking.  As if anyone on the team would try to make someone drink when they didn’t want to.

 

“I think I’ll pass this time, if that’s okay,” Ava says.  She looks around her, not quite certain what to do with the tiny plastic cup in her hands.  Zari ends up deciding for her, though.

 

“More for me!” she exclaims, before clinking both glasses with Amaya and Sara, downing both shots as if they were water.  Amaya makes a face when she finishes hers, and uses her mixed drink as a chaser to wash down the taste of pure tequila.

 

Sara isn’t a huge fan of the taste, and swears after she downs her shot.  It’s an efficient way to consume alcohol, sure, but that doesn’t mean it tastes any good.  Zari and Ava laugh at Sara and Amaya’s reactions, and Amaya lightly hits Zari on the arm for making fun of her.

 

“So you’re gonna hang with us tonight, yeah?” Zari asks, turning to Ava.

 

“If you don’t mind,” Ava starts, some of her earlier trepidation clawing its way back.  “I still don’t really know anyone yet.”

 

“Well now you know us,” Sara says, leaning forward to look past Zari and flash Ava with a bright smile.  Sara would swear she saw Ava blush, but her attention is diverted when the team of rookies beats the captains at beer pong and everyone watching loses their shit.

 

The pre-game doesn’t last much longer than that, and the team walk the half mile together to the frat house down the street, and thankfully no one is so drunk that they’re stumbling.  Although that will most definitely come later.  When the team enters the frat house, it’s clear that the party has already started judging by the loud exclamations and cheering from the boys.  Ava looks uncertain again, so Sara presses forward to talk into her ear and reassure her teammate that she’ll be fine, and that she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.  Sara swears that Ava is blushing again, but she’s being sucked further into the house.

 

Luckily she, Ava, Amaya, and Zari manage to find a place to sit outside on the back patio.  It’s a warm night, but there’s a nice breeze to keep them cool.  Plus it would probably be even warmer inside with the rhythmic bump and grind of bodies moving to the music.  They drink some more, although Ava continues to abstain, and Sara tries to space out her drinks so that she’s drinking water in between each one.  She’s not exactly trying to get wasted when she’s got one of her legs in a brace.

 

The three roommates talk, and tell Ava embarrassing stories about each other, and sometimes about other girls on the team.  Every so often, some of their teammates will come join them outside, and they all try to get to know Ava a little bit better, who decides that opening up with a group of girls she has to spend so much time with anyways isn’t the worst thing in the world.  Sara is happy to sit and watch, and as her buzz settles through her body, she thinks about Ava’s hands, and the solo cup full of water that she holds in one, the other in her lap.  She tries to look away when Ava takes a sip; she doesn’t want to come off as creepy and watch Ava’s lips around the rim of her cup.  Sara has a strict no sleeping with teammates policy, and she also doesn’t know if Ava is even into girls.

 

She gets what she thinks is an answer not long after, when a group of the guys, including Nate and Ray, make their way outside to socialize.  It seems that Nate and Amaya’s version of socializing is heavily flirting, and Sara notices how both Zari and Ray look away from the pair to focus on talking to Sara and Ava instead.

 

“So, Ava,” Ray starts, clearly trying to figure out where he’s going as he’s talking.  “You’re new to the team, right?”  Ava nods her head, which Ray takes as a cue to continue.  “How do you like it here so far?”

 

“It’s a lot different than my last school,” she starts, trying to figure out what to say as she says it, just like Ray a moment ago.  “The people here are a lot nicer here,” she continues, her eyes flashing to Sara briefly before she takes a drink from her cup.

 

“Aww, yeah, we all know Sara here is actually a big softie underneath that harsh exterior,” Ray says, smiling.  He slings an arm around her shoulders from where he’s perched on the arm of her chair, and she taps him lightly in the stomach with the back of her hand that isn’t holding her drink.

 

“Hey, I can be tough,” Sara counters, sitting up straighter and flexing as if that will prove her point.  Zari and Ray laugh, and Ava smiles, but she’s looking between Sara and Ray’s arm around her like she’s trying to deduce if they’re together or not.  Sara decides, for whatever reason, that she wants to make it clear to Ava that she’s into girls.  Zari, thankfully, pulls through for her.

 

“I don’t know, Sara, you definitely get all gross and gay whenever you talk about that girl you dated before college,” Zari says.

 

“Hey, it’s bi to you,” Sarah says, pointing at Zari.

 

“Yeah!” Ray echoes in mock indignation, backing down immediately when Zari glares at him.

 

“Doesn’t make you any less gross,” Zari murmurs into her cup as she takes a drink.  Ava is looking at her with interest, but Sara chalks it up to the alcohol in her system making her see things she wants to see.

 

Their night begins to turn into early morning.  At some point, Amaya and Nate wandered off, and Sara suspects that they had probably gone somewhere else to “socialize” in private.  Sara’s getting tired, and she notices Ava stifling a yawn, so she and Zari say their goodbyes to the boys and walk their new teammate back to her dorm.

 

Ava has started to progressively come out of her shell throughout the night, to the point where she’s asking Sara and Zari questions about the other girls on the team, and how often they have parties like this.  Sara’s glad that Ava’s brashness has been toned down.  It’s still there, but it’s not as prominent, and Sara has recognized it as discomfort rather than any kind of rudeness.  She can definitely understand where Ava’s coming from, and on the walk home, has realized that the night, and helping her teammate feel comfortable, has helped Sara get out of her own head.  Her brace doesn’t bother her as much anymore, and her knee might hurt, but she’s okay with ignoring it.

 

The dorm building isn’t that far from the frat house, and it doesn’t take very long for the three of them to walk there.  They say their goodnights, and their “see you Monday’s”, and as Zari and Sara turn to leave, Ava reaches out to pull on Sara’s arm and get her attention.  Sara waves at Zari to go on without her, that she’ll catch up, and Zari just shrugs and continues walking.  There’s something bothering her, and Sara can guess what it is, and she’ll definitely have to find a way to talk to her friend about it, but that’s more of a problem for future Sara.

 

Present Sara is looking at a girl that she’s beginning to think is more and more pretty by the second.  She knows that in the morning she’s going to push that out of her head, because it’s a very bad idea to get involved with teammates, but once again, that’s a problem for future Sara.  Present Ava is looking at her so softly that Sara thinks she might actually kiss her.  Present Sara doesn’t really give a shit that they probably shouldn’t, and she knows that if it happened, she would go with it, and anything that happened after.  She can’t blame it on the alcohol, either, since her buzz wore off at least an hour ago.

 

“What’s up?” she asks when Ava doesn’t say anything.  Ava looks over Sara’s shoulder, almost to make sure that Zari can’t hear them.

 

“I’m, um,” she starts, nervous.

 

“Cute?” Sara supplies as a possible answer.  It’s risky, and she probably shouldn’t have said it, but it’s out there now.  And this time, she knows for sure that the blush on Ava’s cheeks is real and because of her and she’s definitely not imagining things.

 

“Gay.  I’m gay.  I’m a lesbian,” Ava says, and it’s fast, but it’s hard to mistake what she said.

 

Sara isn’t sure if there’s a specific way for her to respond, and she’s confused given that she was definitely expecting to kiss the girl in front of her that she definitely did not in any way think was gorgeous.  “That’s awesome,” she says, leaning forward slightly.  Ava’s blush burns her cheeks, and instead of doing what Sara expects, she murmurs a quick “goodnight” and disappears into her building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was definitely supposed to be like... each year as a chapter, but it doesn't really seem like it's gonna happen that way. we'll see what happens. would anyone be interested in sara's freshman year? yes? no? let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> depression tw

“Hey, Laurel, it’s me.”  She pauses, not certain how to go about this even though it seems like she’s left the same message a million times in the past few months.  “It’s Sara.  Your favorite sister,” she jokes, because that’s one of the things she does when she’s uncomfortable.  “I guess you don’t really have a say, since I’m your only sister.”  She smiles to herself, soft and sad.

 

“Just wanted to, y’know, check in, see how you’re doing.”  She hates that she feels so awkward trying to talk to her sister, even though it’s just a voicemail.  Laurel is someone she’s known her whole life, someone that she can talk to about anything and know that she’ll be understood.  Just not anymore.  “I’d really love to, uh, to be able to talk to you.  To apologize and stuff.”  It’s never mattered how long or short her messages are because none of them have ever gotten her a response.

 

“Anyways, just call me back, or text me or something.”  She ends the call and she wants to cry, but she knows that it won’t do anything to change her situation.  She blows her nose, pushes her phone underneath her pillow, lays down for her second nap of the day.  This way, if her phone vibrates while she’s asleep, it’ll wake her up.  But the contact photo of her and her sister hasn’t popped up in months.

 

* * *

 

 

 _She could tell she was awake, but she didn’t feel like she was.  She was laying down, but not on her bed at home, because she’s propped up, and she definitely does not sleep like that.  There’s also what seems like a lack of smell altogether, except she can_ feel _that it’s unique to wherever she is.  She can’t hear much, either, but there’s a phone ringing somewhere that seems very far away, and footsteps that are closer, although not by much._

_She feels like she’s awake, but she’s in a state of consciousness and unconsciousness where nothing feels real and she can’t tell if it’s a dream or not.  She’s trying to shift so that she can get into a more comfortable position to sleep in, but someone keeps stopping her and telling her that she has to stay still.  Eventually she falls back asleep, and the person beside her goes back to their book to try and keep from being disappointed that Sara wasn’t awake yet._

_Not much later, she wakes up in a dimly lit room, and everything rushes in all at once.  Her head is killing her, like she has the worst headache she’s ever had in her entire life, and her right leg hurts like a bitch.  It feels sore; she wants to shake out the feeling, only to quickly realize that it won’t move.  Panicking, she pulls the sheets over her legs and immediately feels sick to her stomach._

_She can see the stitching on her skin woven underneath the brace that covers the majority of her leg.  Sara knows what that means, knows that if this is worst case, her life is over.  Maybe dramatic, but looking back she feels like that kind of reaction was warranted.  She wants to cry, because she can’t really feel the brace – it’s more like a ghost of a touch – and she’s trying to prove to herself that she isn’t paralyzed by moving her other leg.  Which is bruised, and there’s a pretty nasty graze on the opposite knee, but she can wiggle her toes and flex her ankle and pull the leg up to her torso, and that makes her want to cry, too._

_She checks the rest of her body to see how bad the damage is, and she notes that the worst of it is the leg that’s in a brace, and that’s incredibly scary and makes her angry, but she knows it could’ve been so much worse.  Once she feels more sure about her body, she takes in the room around her.  It looks like she always expected a hospital room to look: generic medical posters on the walls, a door leading to an outside hallway, another presumably to a bathroom.  The shades have been pulled closed on the windows, the only illumination in the room coming from the sun peeking in from outside.  There’s a chair pulled close to her hospital bed, a book splayed open on the seat, a dark jacket slung across the back.  She’s the only person in the room, and she’s not really sure what to do about that.  Should she get up and find someone?  Is someone coming?  Is there a button she can press that will immediately summon a nurse like she’s seen on TV?_

_As she’s trying to figure out what to do, the door from the hallway opens, and the light that pours in makes her head spin.  She puts her head in her hands and shuts her eyes tight, and the person who opened the door hastily makes their way inside the room and closes it._

_“Shit, sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t think you’d be awake.”  Sara rubs her eyes with her palms, blinks a few times, and then looks up to see Quentin, coffee in hand, hair disheveled, and looking every bit like the concerned parent who has definitely been sleeping at the hospital._

_She leans back against her propped up bed and says, “Hey dad,” flashing a bright smile that is specifically reserved for times when she’s in trouble.  And since she’s in the hospital and definitely has been for some time, she knows she’s probably in trouble.  Especially given that she may not remember all of what happened, but she can remember some of it, and that’s enough for her to know she’s in deep shit._

_Quentin fumbles with his coffee for a moment, not sure where to put it down; there aren’t really any open surfaces for it to safely rest on, but he decides on putting it on the floor.  When he stands back up, he looks at Sara like he’s not quite sure what to make of her and sighs.  Sara tries to make her smile just a little bit bigger, so that maybe Quentin will laugh, but she doesn’t have any luck.  He continues to look at her like he doesn’t know what to do, and she’s not sure what that means coming from him._

_He doesn’t stay like that for long, taking one of her hands in his and kissing her softly on her forehead.  He sits down on the edge of her bed, and his expression changes, but this time he looks sad._

_Sara knows just how serious this is, that she can’t play this off like the time she and Mick were trying to make a fire and she burned her arm, or someone dared her to ride her bike down the tallest driveway in the neighborhood and she hit the mailbox and broke her nose.  She had fucked up_ hard _this time, and the fact that it was just her dad there, that Laurel wasn’t, said everything it needed to._

_“I’m really sorry, Dad,” she says, unable to hold back the quaver in her voice._

_“I know, sweetie, I know,” and this time he does smile, and Sara is relieved, even if he still looks sad.  “I just want you to know that I’m so glad you’re okay.”  She nods, because she really wants to cry now.  After a moment, Quentin leans forward and envelopes her in a hug, and she can’t stop the sobs from bubbling up after that.  Sara cries for herself, and she cries for her dad, but mostly she cries for her sister, because Laurel wasn’t there, and Sara told herself it was her own fault.  She wanted to take it all back, but instead she was in the hospital, her leg in a brace and her head pounding._

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not that she felt tired, or worn down, or exhausted, but she just wanted to sleep all the time.  She attributed it to having to go to class and wake up early for practice, and having two-a-days a few times a week, even though she never had a problem with it last year.  She’s taken more naps in the month since she moved back to campus than any other time in her life, and she can’t blame it on her concussion anymore.

 

The mixer with the boys had been almost a week ago, and Sara feels like she can’t recognize the person that she was that night.  The Sara she is right now has no energy for socializing, hasn’t been able to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time.  She doesn’t have an appetite, and even if she did, she knows that she wouldn’t want to eat.  There’s that tiny little part of her in the back of her mind that knows that she isn’t taking care of herself, knows that what she’s doing isn’t healthy, but she ignores it, and she lies as much as she needs to in order to keep people from worrying about her.

 

Instead, she rationalizes her behavior to herself.  She isn’t eating because she isn’t practicing or working out really, because she can’t, so her body doesn’t need as much food as it used to.  And she’s sleeping so much because her body needs to heal, and her doctor had told her that sleeping helps speed up the process, or something like that, so it’s okay that she’s in bed pretty much whenever she doesn’t have class or lacrosse.  As for ignoring her friends?  Sara doesn’t want to bother them.  When she’s being honest with herself about what’s really going on, she decides it’s for their own best interest that Sara is kind of (definitely) keeping them at arm’s length.  They’re good, and happy, and don’t deserve to carry any part of the burden of what she’s going through.

 

She’s honest with her dad sometimes, because it does get to be too much.  So much so that she can’t keep it to herself.  She talks about not wanting to eat, and not having any energy, and not really feeling anything except for this weight that seems to have settled over her chest, making it hard to breathe.  He listens, and Sara knows he understands – she saw it in him when her mom left – but she also knows that he can’t help her.  It’s nice that she has someone to be open with, but she inherited her dad’s stubbornness, and he knows better than to try to get it her to ask for help.

 

So she doesn’t.  She went to class last week, and only thought about skipping instead of actually doing it.  She went to practice and tried not to feel jealous that everyone else got to do suicides while she watched.  She drank water, brushed her teeth, showered on a regular basis.  She functions because she knows she has to.

 

And today, she has to.  It’s a weekend, so no class, but its Sunday, which means a mid-morning practice that Stein had added to their pre-season schedule to prevent players from getting wasted for two nights straight.  Not that they _couldn’t_ during the fall season, so long as they weren’t wearing any team merch, but Stein didn’t want anyone drinking and messing up what he said were, “finely tuned machines capable of tremendous physical skill.”

 

Sara has already been up for a couple hours after a night of not really sleeping because of sleeping way too much the day before.  And although she’s awake, she is an object at rest that wants to stay at rest.  She still has time before Amaya comes and checks on her to see if she’s awake, which is a new thing her friend has started doing.  Sara knows Amaya does it because she’s worried about Sara, but doesn’t want to push or pry, so she doesn’t say anything about her worry.  Zari hasn’t tried to get her to talk, either, but she keeps giving Sara these looks like she knows something’s off and she wants to say something, but she thinks better of it and stays silent.  Sometimes Sara can’t stop herself from getting angry that her roommates keep looking at her with what she’s interpreting as pity, and this morning is definitely one of those times.

 

There’s a soft knock on her door, but she doesn’t respond to it except to turn on her side away from the sound.  The door opens anyways and Amaya walks slowly to the where Sara is, sitting down on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on Sara’s shoulder.  Sara tries not to feel annoyed, because she knows that Amaya is affectionate with the people she cares about.  Except she’s not feeling very rational today, and she doesn’t want to be mean to her friend, so Sara stays quiet.

 

“I know you’re awake, Sara,” Amaya says in a low voice.  Sara rolls onto her back after a few moments, bringing her hand up to cover her eyes and squinting at the light coming in from her open door.

 

“Hey,” she says, voice groggy.

 

“Good morning.  We have to get going in an half hour.”  Sara groans like what Amaya just said is the worst thing she’s ever heard in her entire life; she may not want to just stay in bed all day, but it sounds better than getting up and moving.

 

“Come on,” Amaya says, shaking Sara a couple times.  “Get up, you need to eat something before we leave.  Sara groans again.

 

“Okay, mom,” she says as Amaya gets up to leave.  And instead of closing the door, she opens it further so that Sara actually has to get out of bed to get rid of the excess light pouring in from the hallway.  She decides to get up; staring at the ceiling for another five or ten minutes really won’t do her any good.

 

Sara runs through her routine to get ready for practice.  But because her leg is in a brace, all she does is change her shirt, put on a pair of sweatpants, and pull on a pair of shoes.  She gets annoyed at her sweatpants when the right leg keeps getting snagged on her brace and she keeps having to pull the fabric free.  It’s not a good morning; she knows that she’s feeling angry and frustrated for no reason, but those feelings won’t go away, and it’s definitely making everything worse.  So far she’s been able to not take it out on anyone at least.  She does end up managing to eat something and fill up a to-go mug with coffee before her, Amaya, and Zari are out the door and in the car.

 

It’s a quiet drive, and it only takes a few minutes for them to get to campus.  At the moment, Sara hates that she has to get out of the apartment and come to practice, even if just being on the lacrosse field helps ease some of the anxiety she carries around with her now.  The morning air is chilly in the shade, but the sun brings a warmth to her skin that helps her forget about her frustration for a moment.  But it’s fleeting, and it doesn’t take long before Sara feels like she’s boiling again.

 

While the team gets kitted up, Sara sits on the bleachers and listens to the chatter from the girls around her as they change into their cleats and pull on their pinnies.  It kills her that she can’t even bend her right knee and she has to watch as everyone else does the one thing that she wants to do more than anything else.

 

The captains call for everyone to line up for warm-ups, which leaves Sara sitting on her own.  She watches as they run a couple laps around the field and work their way through some dynamic stretching.  Behind her, she hears the coaches talking, and the sound of footsteps approaching her.

 

“Good morning, Ms. Lance,” Stein says from her left.

 

“Hey, Coach,” she replies, hoping that he won’t try to make small talk with her.  She just doesn’t have the energy for it right now.  And of course, seemingly because she was hoping that he wouldn’t, Stein sits down next to her.

 

“Are you doing alright today?” he asks her, and she pretends she can hear pity dripping from his voice.

 

“Yep, just tired,” she says.  She’s trying to keep this conversation as short as possible, especially so that Stein doesn’t notice that she’s hiding her hands so he can’t see that she’s clenching her fists.  He nods his head and stays quiet for a moment, thinking about what it is that he wants to say next.

 

“I just hope you’re taking care of yourself,” he says.  “Your presence is missed on the field.”  Stein leaves after that, squeezing her shoulder, and Sara feels relieved that he didn’t try to give her some speech about how the team is a family, and they’re all there for her.  He’d already done that when she’d come back to campus after summer anyways.  Sara felt guilty that she was angry at her team for being able to do what college athletes are supposed to do.  It wasn’t fair to them for her to be jealous that they didn’t have to deal with a torn ACL.

 

She tried not to think about it, and instead grabbed her stick and a ball so that she could pass to herself off the wall of the athletic building.  It would be another ten minutes or so until she’d be on the field helping warm-up the goalies.  Or more specifically, warming-up Ava.  Who she’d obviously seen at practice all week and definitely hadn’t talked to about whatever it was that had happened between them last weekend.

 

Not that Ava had tried to talk to her, either.  The next time they saw each other after the party was at Monday morning practice, and all they did was make eye contact.  Ava flushed, although Sara swore that she herself didn’t, even though Zari said otherwise.  It wasn’t until a couple days after that that they even said anything to each other, and that was nothing more than an awkward hello as Ava was leaving the bathroom and Sara was entering.

 

Then again, Sara was okay with the fact that they hadn’t acknowledged whatever kind of sexual tension there had been at the end of the night last weekend.  She hasn’t let herself think about why Ava would have come out to her either, because that carries implications that she _really_ doesn’t want to think about.  Sara has a strict “no sleeping with teammates” policy, and just because Ava is definitely attractive doesn’t mean she’s going to backtrack on that.

 

She pushes thoughts of Ava aside, but the negative energy that’s been with her all morning takes its place.  Sara can feel it in every part of her, and she’s overwhelmed by the desire to hit something that will hit her back.  As she seethes to herself, throwing the ball against the wall as hard as she can to release some of her pent-up frustration, the rest of her team finishes stretching.  She hears them coming towards the bleachers: people talking, laughing, grabbing their goggles and sticks for whatever drill they’re about to start.

 

Sara by-passes the group and instead grabs a ball bag to take with her to one of the warm-up goals and wait for Ava to put her gear on.  She feels likes she’s brimming with some kind of negative energy that could come out at any second, so she tries to distract herself by concentrating on throwing a ball up into the air and catching it.  Ava makes her way over to Sara shortly after, giving her a soft “hello” as she moves past Sara on her way to the goal.  Sara ignores her, spreading the balls around the 8-meter arc in front of the cage.

 

Ava sets her water bottle down.  She pulls her hair down only to put it back up again, and Sara pretends that she doesn’t like the way Ava looks in that moment.  Right now, she really just wants Ava to hurry the fuck up and get in cage so that Sara can start shooting.  Except Ava has this ridiculously specific ritual she does before her warm-up; her hair has to be just right before she puts her helmet on, which she always does before she puts on her gloves.  She’ll twist her stick in her hands, and then step up from the goal line to mid-way to the top of the crease.  And she always finishes by stepping back into the net before stepping forward once more, which is when Sara can start shooting.

 

None of it makes any sense to Sara, because she has no problem with putting her gear on any way she wants and doing what she needs to do.  Everything that Ava does seems unnecessary to her, and right now, it’s annoying.  She just wants to shoot the damn ball and feel even partially the way she did before her accident that left her unable to do anything but this.

 

And so maybe she may start their established routine with shots that are a little harder than necessary.  And maybe she’s focusing more on wanting to score for herself, rather than letting Ava make saves, which is definitely the opposite of what she should be doing.  Sara is using her right leg more than she should right now, too, so that she can put as much leverage and power behind her stick as she can.

 

And normally, she’s pretty good about not hitting Ava.  Except today, she isn’t.  Stein had always told the team that, “hitting the goalie during practice means you’re being lazy with your shot.”  Sara isn’t trying to hit her on purpose, and for the most part it’s just on low shots when Ava moves to meet the ball.  But Sara is starting to feel like she can’t breathe, and she isn’t paying as much attention as she should to where the ball is going after it leaves her stick, and she’s just so pissed off about nothing.

 

Her next shot hits Ava square in the chest.

 

Sara waits while Ava catches her breath.  “Fuck,” Ava says.  “How about we not kill the goalie today, thanks,” she continues, but she says it like she’s annoyed, so Sara ignores her.

 

Once Ava gets set again, Sara levels her stick.  She shoots high, not really thinking about what corner of the cage she wants to aim for or what side of Ava’s body the ball ends up on.  The ball hits Ava in the shoulder, having come from an angle that would have been awkward to catch with her stick.

 

“Hey,” Ava says, authoritative.

 

“What?” Sara asks, defiant, dropping the ball in her stick.

 

“This warm-up is for me, not you.  Slow it down.”  Sara doesn’t respond, just tightens her grip on her stick and tries not to grind her teeth.

 

Her next shot is the same as her last, and she puts her whole body into it.  The ball comes at Ava the same way as the last shot, and it ends up hitting her in the helmet.  Almost instantly, Ava’s stick is on the ground, followed by her gloves and her helmet as she walks towards Sara.  She looks like she’s ready to yell, and Sara holds her ground, scowl on her face, ready for some good old-fashioned confrontation.

 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Ava shouts at her as she takes her last few steps to invade Sara’s personal space.  “Are you trying to give me a concussion?”  Ava looks nothing like the shy and uncertain girl that showed up to the party last weekend.  She’s giving off a very distinctive “don’t fuck with me” vibe that Sara is trying to mirror.

 

“Not my fault you’re a shit goalie,” Sara responds.

 

“Excuse me?” Ava asks her rhetorically, stepping further into Sara’s personal space before pushing her backwards.  Sara looks at her incredulous for a second and steps back into the space that she was just pushed out of.

 

“I said,” Sara starts again, trying to make herself as tall as possible, “that it’s not my fault –“  But her sentence is abruptly cut off.

 

Sara didn’t expect that quiet and reserved Ava would have it in her to hurt anyone, so she really isn’t expecting it when she gets punched in the face.  She’d once had a discussion with Laurel about what it must feel like to get hit, and how the both of them would react to it.  At the time, Laurel speculated that Sara might stand up for herself, but said that Sara was too nice for her to want to escalate something like this any further.

 

Except Laurel didn’t know the Sara that was able to get this angry over nothing.  Laurel didn’t know the rage that Sara felt the second Ava’s fist connected with her cheekbone.  And Laurel didn’t know that Sara thinking of her in that moment intensified her anger.

 

She managed to stay on her feet after Ava punched her.  Ava – whose hands are now down by her sides – looks like she thinks that her one punch had been enough to deter Sara from responding.  Instead, Sara punches her right back: once in the face and again to her stomach, around her chest guard.

 

Ava responds by punching Sara in the face _again_ , this time the other side, and Sara revels in how good it feels to get hit without thinking about the why of it.  She lets Ava hit her again before the assistant coach that had been warming up the other goalie, Charlie, gets between the two of them and forces them apart.  When Sara takes a step back, she notices that practice has stopped, and the whole team is looking at the pair of them.  She’s breathing heavy, her adrenaline still pumping for now, fueling her desire to keep punching.

 

And then Stein is there, looking at the two of them like a frustrated and disappointed parent who definitely had to pull the car over to give his two fighting kids a reprimand.  His face is fiery and intense, and he isn’t normally a man who yells, but this is a special occasion.

 

“What in the world is going on here?” he exclaims.  Both Sara and Ava stay silent, still breathing heavy and looking at each other like they would very much like to keep fighting.  Stein eyes the both of them for a few moments, clearly thinking about what to do.

 

“Cocah Leach, please finish warming-up Charlie,” he says to the assistant coach that had intervened.  She eyes the two girls before pulling back.  Sara and Ava stay where they are while Stein turns to the rest of the team and tells them to grab water.  He waits until everyone else is off the field before leading Sara and Ava to the opposite side.

 

“We do not fight on this field,” he starts, voice low and dangerous.  “And we do not punch each other on this team.”  Ava deflates at that, looking something akin to sheepish, while Sara pretends to remain unaffected by Stein’s disapproval.  She crosses her arms like a defiant teenager who isn’t getting what they want, which is probably why Stein dismisses Ava, telling her they’ll talk about this “incident” after practice and that she’ll finish her warm-up with Coach Leach once Charlie is done.

 

Once it’s just Sara and Stein, she feels her earlier adrenaline begin to ebb away.  Now she just wants to get as far away from her coach and this field and her team as fast as possible.

 

“You are going to go home,” Stein says.  She tries to remain as unaffected as she can externally, but internally she starts to feel scared about what this might mean about her spot on the team.  “You are going to cool off.  Tomorrow, you are going to come to practice thirty minutes early and you are going to tell me what happened.”

 

Sara nods, and Stein lets her walk away to the bleachers.  She passes the team as she goes to collect her things, most of them giving her confused looks, but Amaya and Zari look worried and concerned.  Once she grabs her stick and her backpack, she heads for the closest bus stop to take her downtown and away from what just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is shorter than i meant it to be, and took longer to put out than i would have liked, but half the stuff i wrote for this chapter is going in the next one, which will hopefully be published quicker!


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